


Reading Buddies

by JulietHasAGun



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:46:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietHasAGun/pseuds/JulietHasAGun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluffy Hancock x F!SS miniseries centering around a Sole Survivor who's a bit embarrassed about her bookish behavior; because we've all gotta have hobbies, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. White Lie

"The smell of rotting books and dead bodies, nothing like it.“ Hancock quipped, gunning down the last super mutant that had been plaguing the Boston Library. Him and his lady companion had been gunning down the green slabs of flesh at the behest of Daisy, proprietor of one of Goodneighbors most successful pawn shops; and by that he meant their only pawn shop. She wanted them to clear it out to preserve her fond memories of the place, which neither of them had a problem doing. She was one of Z’s only friends, and somewhat of a mother figure to the towns mayor, like hell he’d ever admit it though. 

Speaking of his companion, he hadn’t seen her since she gunned down one of their suiciders with a shotgun. He turned away from the massive pile of mutated bodies and looked down the hallway they had just come from. 

"Hey, Napoleon, you down there?” He shouted. 

No answer. He pumped his shotgun, reloading it as he walked down the desolate hallway. 

“If you’re planning on scaring me, you should know I got nerves of ste-” His mocking croon was cut off by a window slamming shut beside him. He leapt to the other side of the hall, back slamming against the wall, aiming his shotgun at the glassless window pane. 

Nothing. 

He grumbled, turning back down the hall. He hoped she hadn’t heard that. 

"Come on, pookie, if you wanted to play hide and seek- don'tcha think it’s fair to at least tell me first?“ He called, walking into what he assumed was the main library; with it’s rotting, overturned bookshelves, and pages of books long forgotten strewn across the floor. From the doorway he finally set his eyes on her, plucking at the book return station. That’s right, Daisy had also asked them to return a book for her. About two-hundred years late, by his account. 

"Havin’ some trouble there, love?” He teased her, her expression so completely absorbed in her current task. At the sound of his voice she launched herself back a good couple feet, letting out a surprised yelp. She was about ready to whip out her pistol until she saw the vibrant red of his coat and exhaled. 

“Hancock how many times do I have to tell you-” Now she was ready to wring his skinless neck. 

“Hey, I was calling for you from down the hall. Don’t blame me for the fact that you can’t figure out how to return a book.” Again, with the teasing. Zoe was about to clout him upside the head. She had something wedged under her arm, something she was slowly trying to inch behind her back without dropping it to the floor. The ghoul cocked his head slightly. “What’s that?” He asked. 

“None of your business.” She said firmly, probably still trying to get her heart rate down. 

He grinned mischievously. “Oh now I’ve gotta know.” He almost purred, his voice getting lower. He tucked his shotgun into his belt, hunching his shoulders. 

“Oh, no-” Her eyes widened, brows furrowing. “No, no, no.” She knew what he was getting at, she looked to her right, at the doorway, jerking for it; but shit he was nimble. 

“Oh, yes, yes, yes.” He mocked, lunging for her, coiling a skinny arm behind her back, pulling her towards him. 

“Lemme go-” His free arm slid under hers, plucking the object from her grasp. “Give that back!” She hissed, wiggling against his grasp. For someone who was pretty much a zombie, he was bizarrely strong. 

“In due time, pookie.” He snickered, holding the object away from her as he turned his head to look at it. It was a book, not the same one Daisy had sent them to return. It was thicker, heavier. He flipped it over to observe the spine. He barely made out, in faded golden text, ‘The Lord Of The Rings’. “You got a thing for rings? Cuz I could just take you to Daisy’s, I’m pretty sure some scavvers pawned her some a few days ago-” 

She managed to break free, snatching it from his grasp as he chuckled. “It’s not about rings. Well- it’s about 'a’ ring. But not in the way you’re thinking.” She breathlessly explained, clutching it to her chest. “It’s a book. I read it a long time ago. I saw it and I just thought..you know…I might read it again.” She looked down at it, almost sadly, for a moment. “With all the free time I have between fighting raiders, and running synths out of the Commonwealth.” She hardened her expression again. “Yeah, I know, it sounds kinda stupid. I used to like to read. Kind of a dumb hobby to have now.” 

Hancock then understood why she had wanted to hide it from him. She had thought he’d think it was stupid. Kinda hurt, now that he thought about it. 

“Hey, hey. It’s not stupid. I, for one, love to read.” It was a bit of a bullshit lie. He hadn’t sat down to read a damn book since his mother tucked him and his brother into bed with 'The Emperors New Clothes’. 

“You do?” She blinked, trying not to appear shocked by his statement. 

“Yeah.” He continued, in too deep to back out. “And you know what? I wanna read that. Lord of The Ring, whatever, you’ve got there.” It was fucking huge, and he wondered for a moment if he could back out of it. 

But the way her expression brightened when he said that, he didn’t even want to. 

“Really?” She practically glowed. 

“Yeah, really." 

\--

Back in Goodneighbor, Daisy had thanked them for protecting the 'sacred'ness of her library. Well, it wasn’t 'hers’, but with how affectionately she talked about it, they had both pretty much christened it 'Daisy’s Library’. Hancock briefly wondered how many caps it would take to get that tacked on the door. 

"So Hancock, you’re a reader?” Daisy leaned over the counter, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. 

“Huh-” He furrowed his non existent eyebrows for a moment, before remembering the book he had taken from Zo. “Ah- yeah. Napoleon picked it up from the library and it looked interesting, so I wanted to read it.” He tried to brush it off; but Daisy, as always, saw right through him. 

“You know how many words are in that, right?” She pressed him, wanting him to admit it himself, rather than her just saying it. 

“Yeah, I’m not stupid. I know its big, can’t be too hard.” He fumbled, noticing Zoe had went off to buy more ammunition from KLEO. 

Daisy leaned further over the counter, lowering her voice. “There are better ways to impress a girl, Hancock.” 

“I know, I know. But dammit the way she looked when I said I wanted to read it; I couldn’t back out.” He muttered, not wanting his companion to hear. “It’d be like kicking a puppy. I’m not that kinda guy.” 

“ _Why did you even say that in the first place_?” She whispered sharply. 

“Because, I don’t know, I’m a posturing shit and I wanted to impress her, like you said.” He was mentally kicking himself. 

“I think you accomplished that the time you fought off a super mutant with a pocket knife. You see, that’s the kind of stupidity you can get away with. You can’t bullshit your way through lord of the rings.” She lectured him in whispers, and somehow that made her words more cutting. “ _And don’t aim those puppy eyes at me, I am not telling you the plot. You dug yourself this hole, so you’re either going to read it, or admit you don’t give a damn about books beyond using them as doorstops._ ” 

“Daisy, you know I can’t do that..” He cringed, Daisy was one of two people who could make him cringe, and the other was buying shotgun shells from an Assaultron. 

The woman sighed. “Hancock, just when I thought you couldn’t be more of a basket case, you have to fall into this puppy love hole.” She looked at him, the bizarre ghoul in a tricorn, and her expression softened. “I _swear_ , you’re lucky I still have a soft spot for you.” 

Hancock beamed. “Does that mean-” 

“It means I’ll help you through the book. I’m not gonna hand you how it goes, but I’m going to help your knucklebrained self. Now, get your bony ass back to your Juliet or I swear I’ll smack you with that book.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice; he eagerly took off after Zoe, jogging up behind her. She looked back at him, popping a couple sugar bombs in her mouth. 

“And what are you all happy about?” She asked, smirking as she offered him a handful of the candies. 

“Nothing,” He grinned, tossing one into his mouth. “I just think I’m gonna really like this book.”


	2. Around Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock and the Sole Survivor decide on a drink after a job well done, and are joined by the usual eclectic crowd of Goodneighbor.

It was later in the evening; dusk having already settled its hushed presence over Goodneighbor. The neighborhood watch had started to light the lanterns that littered the tight alleyways and open plaza of the town; with a musty fog dusting eerily over the cobbled and cracked streets, as it always did. 

But, Hancock and Zo were not outside, enjoying the clear star-blanketed sky; as they often did when they wandered the Commonwealth. Instead they had holed themselves up inside The Third Rail. With their wounds bandaged, food (Which, for once, was not radroach meat) in their stomachs, and a sense of drowsy contentment at a job well done, they had decided a few celebratory rounds were in order. Unlike Vadiim in Diamond City, White Chapel Charlie wouldn’t gab your ear off with over enthusiastic stories about the time he tussled with the mob (Of course, he hadn’t even done the tussling. That had been left to Zo and Hancock, as it always was.). Instead, the brusque Mr. Handy would happily pour round after round, not questioning the sobriety of his patrons as long as they kept the caps coming and didn’t start a fight; which suited both parties just fine. 

Now, Zoe didn’t often get drunk- she didn’t like the effect it had on her, nor did she like the violent hangovers she got stuck with the morning after a wasted romp; however, in this case, she was absolutely smashed. 

Hancock tipped a glass of whiskey against his lips, his black eyes focused down at the pages before him. ’ _What language was this shit written in_?’ He asked himself, too distracted by the drunken escapades of his two friends at the bar to really focus on the paper monstrosity that sat in front of him.

Zoe had been joined in her drunken revelry by none other than MacCready, Goodneighbors resident friendly merc. The two often ventured out together and, despite Hancock’s snide complaints, he was one of the few people the mayor actually trusted to have her back- outside of himself, of course. 

“S-s'then this giant green s'permut'nt just sprints out at us, yeah?” Zoe slurred, drunkenly recalling the story of the supermutant suicider that had almost blown them both to pieces. MacCready was hunched over, his head resting on his limp arm as he looked up at her, slack jawed, in drunken awe. “N like, he has a friggin mini nuke strapped to his arm. ‘N this shits beepin, so I’m like 'aw fuck man, I’m not gonna go into the great beyond havin’ been done in by a giant roid rage booger in a library’. So I whip out my shotgun, and like, I got one shot at this….or maybe two…or three…” She leaned back to look at them. “Hhhey, honey how many bullets are in my shotgun again?” Her nose was pink, and she was blinking furiously to focus on him. It was both adorable and hilarious at the same time. 

“Thirty-two last I checked, sunshine.” He chuckled. She beamed at him, her eyes absolutely dopey. 

“Love youuu…” She cooed; she was sappier than usual when she was drunk. She swiveled herself back around to face MacCready, elbows slamming down on the counter, intent on continuing her story. “S’ I had like thirty-two chances to get this shit right- but like- that’s not the point. S’ I aim this shit, and it’s a friggin supermutie right? Those things’re tanks. Like, by the time I got it down, it’d be right up my asshole right? So I’m like, fuckit, I’m just gonna shoot the friggin nuke-" 

"Ho-oly _shit_!” MacCready slurred, popping up for a minute, like some demented jack in the box with five o’ clock shadow. 

“Shhhhh- _story time_.” Zoe quieted him, slapping a hand on his shoulder just as he slumped back into his original position. 

“ _Sorry_.” The sniper responded quietly, he sounded like a kid whose mother was reading him a bedtime story. 

“Thank.” She patted the top of his head like he was some sort of house pet before continuing with her story. “S’ I’m shooting this mini nuke. 'N like, you think missiles make some big booms? Nothin’ compared to a mini nuke. Those fuckers tear shit up. ’S anyway, this shit just goes ka-BOOOOM, and I’m just standing there, can’t hear squat cuz that just broke the sound barrier, and m’ eardrums. S’ of course I didn’t hear another mutie comin at me with a huuuge friggin sword- board- thing. Nyway, he just whacks me with it-" 

Hancock attempted to block out the rest of her drunken retelling of their run in with the supermutants, no matter how hilarious it might have been. He had to focus on this damn book. What the fuck was a Hobbit? Were they like ghouls? The last he’d read it was some guys 'eleventy-first’ birthday? Was that even a number? Luckily, MacCready’s yowling brought him back to the scene unfolding beside him. 

"Ho-ly fuck man, you’re like- some kinda super hero 'r somethin’.” He tripped over his own words, staring at her in drunken, slack jawed admiration. “Yer, yer like The Silver Shroud or some shit, dude. All you’d need is like, a fedora and a side-kick. A _sexy_ sidekick.” 

A wicked grin spread across her face. Oh, here comes the Silver Shroud spiel. Always did bring a smile to his face. 

“This neighborhood is ill, Robert MacCready.” She spoke in her full, bolstered Silver Shroud impression. “And I. Am. THE CUUUURE.” She bellowed.   
This promptly got a suitable rise out the merc. 

“HO-O-OLY SH’T-” His voice cracked as he staggered back out of his stool. “I’m friends with a superHERO-” He managed to belt out before crashing to the floor. Hancock couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. White Chapel Charlie gave a tinny sigh, MacCready was dragging himself across the precipice of being too wasted to serve. 

“Well, now- Isn’t this a romp, even for your standards.” He instantly recognized the sultry voice, even before seeing the reflection of red sequins on his glass. Magnolia, the flower of The Third Rail, that’s what the neighborhood watch called her; they weren’t wrong, she could probably charm a deathclaw to play patty cake with a seven year old, if she put her mind to it. 

“Well, I do like to spice things up once in a while.” He responded, swiveling his stool around to face her. 

“I can see that.” She raised an eyebrow at MacCready, who was trying to drag himself back up onto the barstool- and Zoe, who was laughing like a hyena, reeling in her seat. “Think you might need to get your friends out of here before they hurt themselves…" 

"Or vomit on each other.” Charlie interjected, his robotic arms hard at work cleaning empty shot glasses. 

“Hey, only one of them’s with me; and I’m gonna let you know right now, it’s the pretty one.” He retorted, smoothly reclining against the bar. 

“Tha’ hurts, Hancock, that’s hurtful.” MacCready slurred, finally managing to stand himself up. 

Hancock felt two long arms coil around his torso from behind, pulling him back slightly as a head rested in the crook of his neck. 

“I’m the pretty one.” Zo snickered, her voice still bubbly from the initial buzz of the alcohol. Her breath reeked of rum and vodka from the shots her and MacCready had been doing earlier, but damn if he didn’t like this setup. He’d never try anything on her when she was this wasted, but drunk her was affectionate as all get out, and it was fun to embarrass her with wild stories of her drunken escapades the day after. 

“Got that right, sunshine.” He said in a low voice, reaching a bony hand up to twirl her soft brown locks through his fingers. She giggled, nuzzling her face further into his neck. 

“Well aren’t you two just cute as a basket of kittens.” Magnolia chuckled dryly. It wasn’t necessarily bitterness, but Z was one of the only friends the singer had, and the one who usually had to drag her drunken ass back home at the end of the night. “But, I think it might be best if I got your lovely lady out of here before she starts stripping on a table." 

"Hhhheyyy, I haven’t done that….yet.” He could feel the pout on her face through his coat. 

Magnolia quirked an eyebrow, taking her coat from Charlie and pulling it over her shoulders. “'Yet’ being the key word, here, sweets. Now c'mon.” She pulled Zo out of her stool, aided by Hancock. 

“Careful now,” Hancock muttered, outstretching his arm to make sure she didn’t face plant on the floor. 

“I c'n do it-” She hissed, the aftereffects of the booze setting in as she squinted her eyes, swaying in place. 

“Suuure you can, hon.” Magnolia reassured her, gently starting to guide her towards the stairs. “Now come on, you’re staying with me tonight." 

"B’t whattabout Han-cock?” She hiccuped in the middle of his name, yeah, she was really feeling it. 

“Hancock’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.” The singer assured, almost carrying her up the stairs as she tripped up the steps. 

“Oh, man- *hic*- you got that right buddy..” He could hear her giggles fading into the distance, echoing their way down the stairs. 

“Oh dear lord, I don’t even..” He could barely make out Magnolia’s sigh as the door clicked open, then shut. He stared up to where the two women had just disappeared; out the door and back to her place. Guess he was sleeping alone, tonight. Shame. 

“S’ I guess it’s just us studs now, huh, Hancock.” MacCready brought his mind back down to the bar. 

“Ooh, yeah, MacCready. Just a couple of regular old, ladykillers, now.” Hancock humored him, his fingers still tracing the edges of the monster of a book before him. 

“Whuzzat you got there though, man? That a friggin’ dict-inary?” He could barely force the word 'dictionary’ out of his drunken lips, but damn he tried, leaning over, peering down at the beast cautiously, whiskey in hand. 

“Nah, just a book Zo picked up." 

"Y'sure? Looks like a brick-” MacCready, in his drunken trembling, jerked a small portion of liquor on the pages. 

“ _Shit_!” Hancock hissed, yanking the book away from him, off the bar and into the air. 

“Aw fuck, I’m sorry!” MacCready stuttered, setting his drink back down on the counter- with Charlie promptly confiscating it the moment it left his fingertips. 

“Goddammit…” Hancock cursed, gently shaking out the pages. 

“Mr. Mayor, any way I might be of service with that?” Charlie offered, floating over to him with a hand towel, which he promptly took. 

“No, no, Charlie…It’s cool.” He gently brushed the stray liquid off the pages. Luckily it only got on the edges, which he hoped wouldn’t stick together. “But this thing’s staying in the office with me from now on." 

"A sound idea,” The Mr. Handy agreed. “What do you want to do with your friend over here?" 

He sighed. "Let him pass out in the back, it’s where he used to sleep, right?" 

"Right-o, come on then, MacCready, it’s your bedtime.” Charlie turned, starting to drag MacCready to the back with his robotic limbs. 

Hancock lurched out of his chair, book in hand; ignoring MacCready’s drunken protests. 

“Have a nice evenin’, Mr. Mayor.” Charlie called after him. 

“Same to you, Charlie.” He called back, climbing the steps to leave The Third Rail. 

\--

The Old State house. Not to long ago this had been his home. Well, it still was- but he felt more at home sprawled out next to a certain brown haired wasteland wanderer nowadays, though at this point, curling up next to her wasn’t exactly an option. 

He climbed the rickety wooden staircase that led up to his den. He hadn’t even reached the landing before he was greeted with a familiar voice. 

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in." 

He looked up, a smirk spreading across his fleshless face. "Nice to see you, too, Fahrenheit." 

Sure enough, the intimidating woman was in her usual place in his den. Draped lazily over the edge of one of the couches, smoking a cigarette. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked blandly, amusement in her eyes. 

“Decided to make a pitt stop, get supplies, get ammunition, get drunk.” He listed off the reasons methodically. “The usual." 

"So where’s your little brunette bombshell? Last I saw you, you were still taking up with her.” She flicked the burnt tip of her cigarette into a nearby ashtray. 

“Oh, is that jealousy I hear?” He teased. Him and Fahrenheit knew each other since they were just punks wandering the wastes, picking fights and usually winning 'em. They were like the family neither of them really had, Fahrenheit was a bit too hard to admit it, but she would always worry about him. 

“Hardly,” She chuckled. “I’m just happy you finally found someone who can keep up with you. I always felt you were a little mushy, but you and her seem to get on just fine." 

"Yeah, yeah, okay ice queen. But to answer your question, she had one too many, and now Magnolia’s making sure she doesn’t puke all over herself." 

"I feel Magnolia’s pain.” Fahrenheit teased. “Though a hangover isn’t nearly as bad as what I had to deal with when you tried to take Phsycotats and Jet at the same time." 

Hancock grinned at the memory. "Fun times..” He said wistfully. 

“For you, maybe. I had to deal with 'Hancock- the nutty professor’ for a solid two days." 

"Hey, I’m a delightful stoner." 

"Most of the time." 

Hancock shrugged, still smirking, lurching himself down onto the couch; his bed, work space, and drug lounge. And now, his reading corner. He pulled the mostly dried book out of his coat, prompting a raised eyebrow from Fahrenheit. 

"Lord Of The Rings?" 

"Yepp.” He responded flippantly. She was probably going to push his buttons over this, but honestly he was too tired to care. 

Instead, the woman just reclined in her seat. “'Not all those who wander are lost.’” She said wistfully. 

Hancock looked at her, puzzled. “Yeah? Well up yours too, then." 

"It’s a line,” Fahrenheit said flatly. “From the book?” 

He looked at her blankly. 

“How far are you, even?” 

“Chapter one." 

"What page?" 

"First page." 

”… _You haven’t even started reading the book_?“ She narrowed her eyes at him. 

"Hey, don’t look at me like that, I tried. I really did.” He raised his hands to pacify her before she slapped him with a file, or worse, her hand. 

“Why are you even trying to read it if you find it that difficult?” His sheepish look was apparently answer enough. “Oh my god you are such a love struck puppy.” Her last words were so flat you could probably ice skate over them. 

“I’m a man in love, shoot me.” He returned. “Listen, can you help me or not, because I think Daisy’s asleep." 

"You got Daisy in on this too?” At this point, Hancock was sure Fahrenheit communicated entirely in sighs. “All right. But you owe me. For about the fifth time." 

Hancock beamed. 

"And don’t give me that dumb grin, either. Makes me wanna throw you out a damn window.”


	3. Hangover

Even though most of the windows of the Old State House had been boarded up, either for practicality, or to 'repair' the broken glass after one had been shattered for one reason or another, sunlight still streamed into the old building, painting the aged walls in the yellow hues of dawn. 

Hancock, normally, would be griping about the incessant light, hissing to no one in particular to turn it down before pulling his tricorn over his face. However, these golden rays were currently the only thing Hancock had to rely on to tell him it was currently morning. He paid it little mind, at first. Tersely, softly, but with a lot of feeling, muttering. "Frodo, what the fuck..." 

It was only when a rogue streak of sunlight managed to hit him directly in the eyes that he finally recoiled, squinting up from the book. "Ah, shit..." The realization hit him slowly, as he looked over at the couch opposite him and saw Fahrenheit stiffly sprawled across the couch. Her feet, crossed, were propped up on the arm of the couch closest to the door, spanning most of the couch. Her shoulders were squared up against the opposite end, her arms crossed, and her head leaning drowsily back. It hardly looked comfortable, but as his bodyguard she slept in this position to make sure no one got the jump on her, or him, for that matter. It was weird to see her sleep; considering she got up earlier than him and went to sleep after he did; it reminded him of some sort of pissed off cat, sleeping, but ready to spring to action at a moments notice. He slowly sat up, no point in waking her, she'd probably been up with him all night trying to teach him what the fuck a 'Hobbit' was. As his feet made contact with the floor, the unreliable wooden boards of the State House gave a noisy and unceremonious creak. He cringed, looking up to see if she was awake; with relief washing over him as he saw she hadn't moved a muscle. He slowly stood up, book under his arm, tiptoeing out of the den. 

He was halfway down the steps when the door to the State House was brusquely thrown open. Age had done nothing to help the already creaky hinges of the battered wooden door, and it was about as shrill and grating as sound of nails being dragged across a chalkboard. 

"Hancock, buddy, you in here?" Fucking MacCready, it was always fucking MacCready. 

"Yes, I'm here, tone in the fuck down." Hancock hissed, MacCready quickly cringed, mouthing a 'sorry' as he pressed his index finger to his lips. "Jesus, people with hangovers are usually quiet."

"Actually, that's what I'm here to talk to you about, you still know how to make that little concoction of yours?" The younger man asked sheepishly; there were bags under his eyes that had bags of their own, and his face was so drained of color that Hancock could see the sagging lines of his normally energetic face. 

The ghoul raised a non existent eyebrow. "Concoction...?" He muttered. "Oh, you mean that hangover thing I make? With the Nuka Cola?" Hancock's 'invention' didn't really work for him anymore, his hangovers could be classified as the eighth wonder of the world. However, it worked wonders on normal hangovers. The secret was the sheer amount of sugar ingested would give you enough energy to make it through the worst of it; the rest of it was mainly a placebo effect a 'la his regular ghoulish charisma. 

"Yeah, yeah!" MacCready whispered excitedly, a hand rubbing his forehead. "Can ya fix me up, doc? I'm dyin, here." 

Hancock looked at him with mild amusement. "You know what, MacCready? For you? Sure." _Especially with that show you and Napoleon put on last night_. 

"Oh, thank you. I didn't want to spend the rest of the day whimpering in the VIP room of The Third Rail." MacCready pressed both of his hands together, as if praying. "You're a saint, you know that?" 

"Yeah, the Saint of freaks and alcoholics. Now quit blowing smoke up my ass and come with me to Daisy's so I can get what I need for this shit." 

-

Through rotting wooden boards, sunlight slowly, mercilessly bled across Zoe's face. 

"Nnnnnnrghhhhh-" She groaned, turning over on her side, positioning her back towards the window as she pulled the warm blanket up to her chin. As soon as her temple hit the pillow, it was like she was getting smacked by that supermutant all over again. "- _Fuuuuuuuck_." 

"Well, well, look who's finally awake." Magnolia purred, having changed out of her usual red sequined dress into loungewear. "I was starting to bet you'd be sleeping all day, the way you carried on last night." 

"I wish I had, being awake isn't really doing it for me right now." The younger woman hissed. "God, what did I do last night...?" It was a blur, Hancock, MacCready, and The Third Rail were the only solid things she could remember at the moment. 

"Nothing you'd regret, don't worry. Though I did pull you out a bit early." She could practically see the airy smile on the singers face as she said this. 

"Not early enough, apparently." Zo clutched her throbbing head; jesus this was exactly why she didn't drink. "Have a few drinks, he said, don't worry, it'll be fun." She grumbled bitterly. "Asshole."

"Hancock just likes having a good time. He doesn't really think of the comedown." Magnolia didn't even hear a name and she already knew who it was. Not that it was hard to guess. 

"That's because he never comes down. He's riding a rollercoaster that only goes up." Some of her regular humor managed to seep back into her strained voice. "Where is he, anyway?" The absence of her companion had been mentally noted the moment she woke up. He, despite all outward appearances, was a stage four clinger when it game to cuddling into her throughout the night. She looked back at the raven haired woman, cringing when her eyes met the light. 

Magnolia shrugged. "Probably back at the State House. No reason for him to get a room here when he has a perfectly good couch waiting for him in his office." There was a metallic 'clik' as she lit a cigarette, taking a drag before expelling the smoke elegantly into the air. "Want one?" She offered the pack down at her, with her cigarette held lightly but firmly between her painted lips. "Always helps me after a hangover." 

Zoe waved her hand weakly. "Don't smoke." 

"Ah, that's right. You're the goody goody of the town." The woman teased gently.

"Yeah, yeah. I have my vices, just...not that." 

"And your vices would be? Collecting teddy bears? Listening to swing music? An addiction to hugging?"

"Wow, Mags. Just dig into your suffering friend, here. No biggie." Despite her sarcastic tone, Zo cracked a grin.

"Oh, don't be like that." Magnolia took another drag from her cigarette. "I'll just never not be surprised that Hancock is all over a girl who might as well be in a church choir."

"Mags, I kill people. Frequently. And brutally. With no remorse." Zo said flatly.

"Yes, but it's always heroic. Always. Kent must've known what he was doing when he picked you for that 'Silver Shroud' fiasco, because man you might as well be some kind of superhero the way you get on." The woman sat on the edge of the bed, flicking the tip of her cigarette into an ashtray.

"Don't act like I'm all morally clean and pure. I've done some shit." 

"To people that need to have shit done to them. That's why he's all puppy eyes over you. You're like some kind of avenging angel; with guns, and molotov cocktails." Magnolia put her cool hand on Zoe's forehead; which the latter greatly appreciated, weakly rolling onto her back. "And the occasional injection of Phsyco. But that's nothing compared to what the rest of this town does on the daily." 

"I don't understand how you all live with, with this." The young woman felt like her head was getting split open from the inside.

"Oh," Magnolia sighed dismissively, looking down at her fondly. "We all learn to live with a lot more." 

-

"Aaand there we are." Hancock finished stirring up his 'magical' concoction on the counter of Daisy's shop, with MacCready eagerly looking over his shoulder. 

"Oh thank god." The man sighed, starting to reach for it; before suddenly stopping. "Hey, actually, could I ask you for one more thing?" 

"A foot to the ribs? Why, MacCready I'd be delighted-" Hancock was tired, drained, exposed to direct sunlight, and only half joking.

"No, no. I was wondering if you could make one more for Zo. I was gonna bring one over, considering she got almost as smashed as me last night. And well- she doesn't usually drink. At all." He asked sheepishly. 

"You're stating things I already know." The ghoul said flatly. "But yeah. I'll make another one." Not too sure it'd work, since 50% of its effect was reliant on his bullshitting abilities. Either way, he put his own caps down on the counter as Daisy reached up to a shelf behind her to get another one of the glowing drinks. 

"Woah, woah, don't worry, I've got it." MacCready reached his free hand into the pocket of his trenchcoat to grab a fistful of caps, until Hancock stopped him by slapping a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. 

"I own. This. Town." He said slowly, he didn't actually 'own' anything here, but too tired to deal with the gesture. " Put. The caps. Away." His tone bordered on threatening, but it was enough to get MacCready to slide an empty hand out of his pocket. Daisy chuckled as she slid the glass bottle across the counter at him. 

He went through the motions yet again; he'd made this damn ridiculous thing too many times. He could probably just crack open a regular soda, sprinkle some sugar bombs in it and call it a 'miracle hangover cure' and people would believe him. He slid yet another class off the obnoxiously sugary concoction over to MacCready, who took it quickly up into his free hand. 

"Woohoo~ Now to deliver these babies to the Hotel Rex. Hopefully I don't get stabbed." MacCready drawled. "Thanks again, my dude, you are the best." He emphasized each word, backing away before rounding the corner and galavanting off. 

"Don't-" Hancock sighed, too tired to engage him any semblance of a conversation. "Don't get stabbed..." He sighed lowly, turning back to Daisy.

"Seems like you three had a lovely time last night." Daisy chuckled, wiping down the counter.

"Oh, yeah. Until MacCready spilled god knows what on my book and my date got confiscated." Hancock leaned on the wall next to the door, pulling his hands down his face. "I did not get a damn wink of sleep last night. How do people actually make it through these books? _How was this a hobby people enjoyed_?" 

"Well, you see, back before the bombs killing people for sport wasn't exactly a widely celebrated practice. In fact, it was harshly frowned upon and usually ended up with the person in jail." Daisy put her rag beneath the counter, shaking the excess moisture off her hands. "So, the next best thing for these people to do was to live vicariously through books- Like the one you're hammering through." 

"Why would you want to pretend you're a hairy gnome galavanting through hicktown?" He grumbled, clearly a bit irate from his lack of sleep.

"You obviously haven't gotten that far in the book." She replied, leaning over the counter. 

"I should have, I was up all fucking night." Hancock rubbed his eyes; the sunlight was doing them no favors considering how irritated they already were.

Daisy sighed. "Come to the back, siddown, I'll help you through it, alright?" 

Without a word, Hancock shuffled behind the counter, trying to avoid what he assumed to be inquisitive looks from KLEO. Daisy pulled up a stool a little ways behind the counter, and he sat down, pulling the book out its hiding place in his coat. 

"Alright, now where did you leave off." 

\-- 

MacCready bounced up the steps of the Hotel Rexford, ignoring the 'friendly' old man at the door offering to sell him chems. He often forgot how many people actually sold chems in this town; too much competition, from his viewpoint. He rounded the corner to what he knew to be Magnolia's room, he had already been here to pick up Zo after a particularly wild night a couple times. He saw the woman in question slink out the door in her usual work uniform; her red sequined dress, which was now sparkling in the daylight- turning her into a fairy like presence, shining as she walked across the room. 

"Alright, now, don't puke on the mattress, if you could help it. I'll be back in a few hours if you're still here," Her head was still ducked into the room as she spoke, and the groan that was given in response was presumably Zoe's. Magnolia chuckled. "Alright, alright, I'll let you get back to sleep." The door clicked shut, and she turned to leave, only to spot the merc, smirking. 

"I assume she's not having the best of times." He asked rhetorically, a slightly jovial tone to his voice. 

"Ooooooh, no. Definitely not." Magnolia kept her voice low. "Though as far as I know, she's taking visitors. Just be careful she doesn't claw your eyes out." The woman patted him gently on the shoulder, starting down the stairs. 

"Will do," MacCready called after her, careful not to spill either of the glowing drinks in his hands. 

He nudged the door open, entering the dimly lit room. The curtains were still drawn, and all he saw of Zoe was a lump on the bed.

"Wakey, wakey sleepyhead!" He called in a somewhat teasing tone, closing the door behind him

"MacCready I'm gonna shove a knife up your ass." Her voice was flat, twisting itself into a growl at the end. 

"Well; goodmorning to you too." He set both drinks on the bedside table, sliding his gun off his back to lean it against the couch. He knelt beside the bed, hunkering down into a sitting position, offering her one of the drinks he had swiped from the side table. "Drink up, bittercup." 

The woman groaned, pulling her head up from the pillow to look at him. "The fuck is that?"

"I'm surprised you don't know- but trust me, it'll help!" 

She grumbled, slowly sitting up, plucking it from his hands. She downed a good swig of it before coughing. "This is straight fucking sugar- what are you feeding me?"

"Just finish the damn drink." MacCready groaned dismissively, starting to slam back his own. 

Zoe reluctantly started to drink it, taking large gulps with small intervals to breathe. "Did you liquify some sugar bombs?" She grumbles after she's done, sitting up and wiggling back until she was able to lean against the wall. 

"Nope. Just a thing Hancock makes sometimes. For hangovers." Came his chipper response. 

"And it works for you?" She said flatly, the words 'of course' sarcastically echoing through her mind.

"Hell yeah it does." He set down his empty glass, looking at her incredulously. 

"Well, good for you. I still feel like shit." She rubbed her forehead.

"Because you're focused on feeling like shit. You think about it too much. Relax. You'll feel better." MacCready waved the comment off. "Anyway, are we going to sit here painting each others toenails and moping all day- or are we gonna make some trouble?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) Goodneighbor hangovers are the stuff of LEGENDS, probably.
> 
> 2.) Sugar is the worst thing for a hangover. Do not try to medicate your hangover with sugar. You will have a very bad time. MacCready's just taking his porous, young organs for granted.
> 
> 3.) MacCready would definitely have known Bittercup from fallout 3 and uses it as a nickname to tease Zo incessantly. Mainly because she doesn't understand the reference at all.
> 
> 4.) I am hella sorry this took me so long to put up. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
